Sermons

READING ~ An excerpt from  “Strength to Your Sword Arm” by Bredna Ueland
We should all know this: that listening, not talking, is the gifted and great role, and the imaginative role…it will work a small miracle. And perhaps a great one.

In order to listen, here are some suggestions: Try to learn tranquility, to live in the present a part of the time every day. Sometimes say to yourself: “Now. What is happening now? This friend is talking. I am quiet. There is endless time. I hear it every word.”

Then suddenly you begin to hear not only what people are saying, but also what they are trying to say, and you sense the whole truth about them. And you sense existence, not piecemeal, not this object and that, but as a translucent whole.

Then watch your self assertiveness. And give it up. Remember, it is not enough just to will to listen to people. One must really listen. Only then does magic begin.
PRAYER ~ “The Question”       by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
All day, I replay these words:
Is this the path of love?
I think of them as I rise, as
I wake my children, as I wash dishes,
as I drive too close behind the slow
blue Subaru, Is this the path of love?
Think of these words as I stand in line
at the grocery store,
think of them as I sit on the couch
with my daughter. Amazing how
quickly six words become compass,
the new lens through which to see myself
in the world. I notice what the question is not.
Not, “Is this right?” Not,
“Is this wrong?” It just longs to know
how the action of existence
links us to the path of love.
And is it this? Is it this? All day,
I let myself be led by the question.
All day I let myself not be too certain
of the answer. Is it this?
Is this the path of love? I ask
as I wait for the next word to come.
READING ~ An excerpt  from J.R.R. Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings. From the character Samwise Gamgee.
“I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.”
 

 SERMON

 I love fantasy novels, give me elves who commune with trees, magical humans shunned by bigoted villagers. Give me an old man with a beard and a dwarf with an ax and I am in heaven. It’s the way I recharge, destress, and escape for a little while. A queen who doesn’t know she’s a queen and a kindly dragon set free…and my favorite, an eccentric  wise woman, older than I can guess, whom the main character stumbles upon living alone in the woods. A woman who knows things, who sees more than the average person. A woman who exudes truth and brings the weary adventurer closer to their destiny in ways subtle and sometimes sneaky.

Sometimes when I’m feeling low and out hiking deep in the woods I let myself wish that I would come upon just some woman, tending her garden in a forest glen with the door to her moss covered house flung open and smoke rising gently from the chimney. I let myself imagine that she will feed me, and tell me some ancient riddle that unlocks the secret of my true self and purpose and then will send me on my way, my feet now firmly planted on the correct path home. A path I probably would’ve sworn hadn’t been there before.

In these stories the plot is always about saving the world somehow, and yet success is always dependent upon some humble character unlocking a power within, learning, accepting and enacting their own true potential. Believing in something enough, loving something enough to finally step through their fear, their self doubt, into a life, a quest if you will, bigger, more meaningful, more joyful than they ever could’ve imagined. When these characters finally realize no one else is going to save them or that which they love, they begin to believe in themselves and they find they are on a path that had been laid out before them all along, a path that feels familiar and right though they would’ve sworn it wasn’t there before. They choose to go on trusting just what Samwise Gamgee had believed, that when the ”sun shines again it will shine out all the brighter.”

I had this terrible epiphany recently. Lilliana is on the cusp of her 13th birthday, and it hit me that I have already been the mother of her childhood. Whatever memories she holds are already set. Whatever therapy she’ll need is already needed. I have been the mom of her infancy and toddlerhood and gradeschool years. It’s over. It’s too late to change it, fix it, or balance out the not so good with more of the wonderful. I have already been who I’ll always be to her childhood self.

In some part of her brain and heart and body, I am a fixed entity, no takebacks, no do overs. I’ll have to let Lilliana’s future therapist judge as she will. And Yet, even as I remain static and fully formed in her past, we are now moving forward together in a new way. And though I can’t be a different childhood mom, I can be whatever kind of mom of a teenager I want to be. Though I’m already wishing I had a few do overs. For instance, did you know bribery isn’t the best parenting strategy? I find as I contemplate our relationship on this new threshold, even though I loved her childhood and feel nostalgic about its ending, I really  want to believe that inspirational quote from C.S. Lewis, who said,  “That there are far greater things ahead than those we leave behind.” I happen to know that though this is one of the most famous most often used quotes to encourage people during times of struggle, that Lewis, a deeply devoted Christian, actually wrote these words in 1963 in a letter to his friend Mary Willis Shelburne whom he believed to be dying, in an attempt to offer comfort about the afterlife. Ironically, it was Lewis himself who died just 5 months after penning these words, and Mary lived another 12 years. The stories of our lives really are unwritten and unpredictable.

I come back to the journey of Frodo and Sam in the Lord of the Rings, and their faith that in the darkness the sun will shine again and when it does it will shine out all the brighter… is important in the moving forward part of our stories. Having faith in something, finding that something we love so much that we will carry on despite all obstacles. Letting there be a comfort in that which is at work in the universe, larger and more encompassing than we can fully comprehend. Is a sort of magic, one that works tiny little miracles, and sometimes great ones. It’s a magic we can enact when we first listen and find stillness, when we listen long enough to see the path we must take ahead. A path maybe we didn’t even know was there.

I really do believe and Unitarian Universalism does teach us, though maybe not in these words…that we are the magical heroes of our story, we are the ones to love and root for.

Unlike the Christianity of C.S. Lewis,  Unitarian Universalism doesn’t sell us on the certainty of an afterlife to make all the struggle here worth it or to ease our fear of dying. Maybe there is something, maybe there isn’t. For UU’s The mystery is part of the magic. But UUism does tell us that we are the makers of our own world. It tells us that our choices and lives matter right now. Unitarian Universalism reminds us that we are all connected and united by a Universal Love available to all, no exceptions. I think that is a pretty epic storyline all on its own.

Earlier this month when I found myself reminded of that Incan myth, the one where the tribesmen and guides just stop walking after a period of intense travel in order to let their souls catch up, I was thinking about this. About how so often we pass through these seasons of our lives, these moments in time and we never stop and listen to the movement within us. We don’t savor or analyze the arc of our own stories.  We never integrate into our bodies all that’s happened, we never let our souls catch up and in that refusal to stop we lose the wisdom that is meant to be the reward for going through it all in the first place. Wisdom never sits on the surface, it always has to be mined and then cultivated.  You can only do that by stopping now and then. Sifting slowly through the passing moments, feeling what needs to be felt, listening, listening so well and so deeply that you hear what is not said but is perhaps more true.

Wasn’t that a great line from our first reading this morning? Bredna Ueland said, when one listens well, “Suddenly you begin to hear not only what people are saying, but also what they are trying to say, and you sense the whole truth about them. And you sense existence, not piecemeal, not this object and that, but as a translucent whole.”  This doesn’t just apply to listening to other people. Though I strongly recommend it. It’s the most powerful thing one can do in conflict resolution. But, magic also happens, we hear what our own lives are trying to say, when we are still and listen to ourselves.

I’ll have no hope of being the kind of mom I want to be for Lilliana’s teen years if I don’t stop and take some time for stillness and listening, if I don’t let my soul catch up on this threshold, if I don’t let the wisdom I’ve gained from her childhood settle itself into the me I am now. Otherwise, I’ll end up at the cusp of her 20th birthday feeling exactly like I do now. At the very least I’d like to make better, more amusing, mistakes going forward.

I feel there is some parallel here in terms of church community. You have already been the friends, members, neighbors we were when the whole world shut down. We have already made all of the choices you were asked to make about how to carry on, where to focus your energy. You already cared for yourselves and one another the way you did. Good and not so good. You already supported, learned from and then said goodbye to your minister. You already were people in the dark, shadow time of that particular story. You have already been the people that who could’ve given up but didn’t. Instead, there was something of the hero in you all. Something of the folks who,  according to Samwise Gamgee, had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.”

So here you are holding onto something. What is that something for you?

Has your soul caught up after so much change, loss and turmoil?  (I know it isn’t over yet..but let this be a moment of calm in the midst of continuous series of storms)

Is it time now for some stillness before moving forward again? Is it time now for deep listening, the listening that hears what is below the words? Is it time for a little magic?

Remember Albert Einstein’s response to a journalist who complimented his intellect? He said, “It is not that I’m so smart. But I stay with the questions much longer.” 

I hope part of my work as a human and a mom will be to begin seeing stillness as a necessary part of moving forward. And that this stillness will invite in all the wisdom of all my experiences to catch up with me so that I can access it, use it, and be made better.

In my newsletter article to UU Belfast this month I wrote:

I feel the desire to stabilize and center ourselves after these tumultuous years. I want to let our souls catch up and then stay with the questions of “Who are we now? What can we count on? Does our church community feel stable and healthy? How are we treating one another and where would we like to direct our precious energy?” I want us to take the time we need to process the many losses we have endured and to celebrate the positive accomplishments and necessary changes we have allowed to evolve. I want us to take comfort in our faith and gather our strength for the challenges calling us onward. I ask you the same questions and my hope is the same for Belfast, Castine, Ellsworth…UU Congregations everywhere.

Another great line from C.S. Lewis that is not contextualized around a theology of an afterlife is this:

“You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can stay where you are and change the ending.”

Let us write the best story we can. In our own lives and for one another.

May it be so.